


Pancakes

by hereticpop



Category: the GazettE
Genre: M/M, pancake porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-27
Updated: 2009-09-27
Packaged: 2017-11-09 20:01:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/457829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hereticpop/pseuds/hereticpop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They make pancakes</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pancakes

“Let’s make pancakes,” was what Ruki said. It didn’t seem like a suspicious thing to say, so Aoi agreed. You’d think he should know better by now.

In Ruki’s world, making pancakes together consisted of Aoi making pancakes and Ruki popping into the kitchen, just to point out what Aoi was currently doing wrong, before going back to watching TV, snoring on the sofa or taking a shower. A particularly miraculous occurrence, this cooking knowledge of his, seeing as he hadn’t even known the recipe beforehand.

“It doesn’t look too pancakey,” Ruki said as he came in once again, a towel around his hips and another one in hand to rub at his wet hair.

“What?” Aoi snapped, concentrating hard on his task of making a particularly unappealing blob on the pan look somewhat edible.

“It’s not round enough.”

“Ah.” Aoi looked up at Ruki, then back down at the pancake in question. “It’s sorta the shape of your head. That’s round enough for me.”

“Excuse me?” 

Ruki’s motion froze, he let the water trickle down his neck and chest as he glared at Aoi. Or that must have been his intention anyway, but even the long-practiced glare had to lose its intensity somewhere between the sad streaks of hair clinging to his cheeks and the sudden washed-out softness of his face. In the end, it made Ruki even angrier.

“Give me that,” he ordered, reaching for the pan and trying to push Aoi’s hips with his own to make him step back. An act pointless to the bone, except for the obvious try at passing another milestone in the constant race they had going. Aoi briefly mused about how petty they both were.

He wasn’t giving in for the sake of some imaginary greater good this time, though.

“Don’t touch it! You’re spraying water everywhere.”

Aoi’s arm snaked around Ruki’s waist to hold him in place. Whether it was the heat from the stove, or the still lingering warmness of the shower, Aoi almost gasped at how hot Ruki’s skin was. It could’ve been anger, too. Ruki was boiling.

“What the hell do you—“

“Shut the fuck up.”

The forgotten pan almost fell down to the floor when Aoi pushed Ruki against the kitchen counter. Leftover flour was sent into the air in white dusty clouds, and Aoi swept all the unnecessary kitchenware off the counter before lifting Ruki onto it; in the meantime sucking at his lips and neck almost offhandedly, messily, but enough to keep Ruki from protesting. He licked the few water drops away from Ruki’s collarbone. His teeth grazed Ruki’s nipple. He barely noticed he put his hand into a bowl of something sticky as he leaned forward.

There was something completely yet comfortably boring in doing it on the kitchen counter. They couldn’t care less. Maybe this indifference was what kept them tied to each other after all.

They were almost voiceless, save for a few curses Ruki hissed when something sharp dug into his thigh. He fidgeted, pushing to the floor another set of kitchen utensils he didn’t even know they had, mere seconds before Aoi grabbed his hips, unwrapping the towel and all the other less tangible things Ruki had to unwrap. There they were again, swirling in the middle of a storm, which was crashing everything around them and they didn’t really care. Rockstars have to crash a plate or two every once in a while. It’s supposedly the self-reminder kind of thing.

The skin at Ruki’s hipbones was soft and milky white, which wasn’t quite so cheap a metaphor at that moment just because Aoi thought it tasted like milk too and sure, they must have spilt some milk on the way. There were more things to taste yet. He wanted to make Ruki groan, moan, just make any kind of sound and judging by the tightening grip of Ruki’s fingers tangled in Aoi’s hair, he was on the right path. A thump from above told him Ruki had probably hit his head against a cupboard, especially as another cluster of cursing followed, half-muted by thighs pressing at Aoi’s ears. Aoi smiled – as wide as he could in the very situation – and pulled back a little, never losing the hot flesh against flesh sensation.

Ruki’s heavy breathing was gaining speed and Aoi had to hold him, thrusting and arching, in place to prevent them from losing balance. Balance being rather relative a term. They were anything but balance, separately and together, always on some edge and blown out of proportion. Just now, Ruki’s tightly shut lips were a show of exaggerated stubbornness. Aoi himself was getting obsessive. And right before a final flick of his tongue and a final arch of Ruki’s back, he had a flash of thought that they were made of those little obsessions. The last bits of humanity they had to keep holding on to.

Ruki started to push Aoi away in the middle of a sticky kiss.

“I’m not even halfway finished here,” Aoi said softly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Ruki wore a half-amused, half-annoyed expression, still blurred at the edges with bliss from moments ago.

“You might want to finish something else first.” When Aoi didn’t react, he nodded towards the stove. “Your pancake is burning.”

“So it’s _my_ pancake now?”

Ruki shrugged and hopped off the counter.

“I need to take a shower again, thanks to you,” he announced, walking towards the door. Aoi took the pan and put it away. The sad-looking and now also burnt blob stared at him offensively.

“I still think it looks like your head.”


End file.
